A Meeting of Two Minds
by Tap Canfield
Summary: A kind of crossover, but I consider it slightly more Diagnosis Murder-balanced. Jessica Fletcher is in LA and of course, murder follows her. Putting her wits together with Mark Sloan, they attempt to find the murderer.
1. Chapter 1

A Meeting of Two Minds

Chapter 1

"It's just a sprain, Grady. I'll be all right."

"All the same, Aunt Jess, I'd feel better if we got it checked."

"Well, if it would put your mind at ease, I'll acquiesce."

Grady pulled over to the curb and shouted out to the nearest passer-by. While he was asking for directions to the nearest hospital, Jessica smiled to herself. Although she didn't feel that a visit to the hospital was necessary, she appreciated her nephew's concern. She and her late husband Frank had raised Grady following his parents' death and, since she had never had any children of her own, her nephew was the closest thing she had to a son.

A few minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of Community General Hospital. Jessica stepped out of car and winced as she placed her weight on her sprained ankle. Taking her arm, Grady helped ease her up to the hospital's main reception, where, upon explaining the problem, they were told to take a seat and that someone would see them as soon as possible.

After forty-five minutes of waiting, Grady was growing fidgety. It was not that he was an impatient man, far from it - Jessica knew that it was the hospital environment that was making her nephew uneasy. Although they were currently removed from any major medical trauma, prolonged stay in hospitals usually made Grady feel uncomfortable.

"You know," Jessica murmured, sensing her nephew's unease, "if you'd rather leave now, I'm sure it won't be a problem."

"No, no, Aunt Jess, we should get your ankle seen to. I'll be fine."

"If you're sure." Jessica returned to her paperback.

Half an hour and two chapters later, Jessica herself was growing rather fidgety, more out of boredom than anything else. She was also thirsty and feeling the beginnings of hunger. She wondered if perhaps she could walk to the hospital cafeteria without too much discomfort. However, as soon as Grady saw her start to stand, he immediately leapt to his feet.

"Is there something you need, Aunt Jess?"

"Well, I'm feeling quite thirsty. I'd like a coffee. Maybe a bite to eat too."

"Well, you wait here. I'll find the cafeteria."

Despite being given directions, Grady got lost twice before he finally found the cafeteria. In that time he had seen a man with two fingers missing, accidentally walked into an operating room and walked past a man with a hole in the side of his head. His relief to have found the place he was searching for did not dispel his jitteriness, which had increased twofold, nor the intensely queasy feeling in his stomach.

So sickened had he been by the injuries that he could not take his mind off them as he bought a coffee and a piece of cake for Jessica. He walked vaguely towards the doors, lost in disturbing images, failing to notice the yellow cones warning that this section of the floor was wet. He felt himself starting to skid. Yelling out in surprise, he threw his arms out and tumbled straight into the doctor who was passing by. Both men fell to the floor.

"I am so sorry. Are you all right?" stammered Grady. The doctor's lab coat was stained with coffee and the cake had ended up in his hair.

"Get off me!" The doctor gave him a shove. Grady climbed to his feet and offered the man his hand. The doctor didn't take it.

"Didn't you see the cones?" he demanded.

Grady shook his head. "No. I…"

"Well next time, you might want to think about watching where you're going."

Grady nodded, unsure of what to say. The doctor was clearly annoyed. Although not overly tall, he looked like the kind of guy who would do well in a fight. Intimidated, he stared at the doctor's badge, which identified him as Jack Stewart. "I'm really very sorry, Dr Stewart. I…I'll go set some more coffee."

He hurried away, feeling the doctor's glare behind him. Now that the other people in the cafeteria could see that neither man was seriously hurt, titters of laughter had started to break out. Grady's face was burning. In addition to the replacement coffee and slice of cake he bought for his aunt, he decided on getting a bowl of soup for himself, figuring that some warm broth might steady his nerves.

Coming away from the till, he saw Dr Stewart had found a table to himself and was brushing cake crumbs out of his hair. Never liking to be on anybody's bad side, Grady decided to make another go of apologising. He walked over and placed the coffee and food on the table.

"I just want to say," he said, "that it was entirely my fault…"

"You got that right," Jack Stewart grumbled.

"…and that I am very sorry and I…whoa!"

Grady's hand had knocked against the bowl of soup, which he had unfortunately placed close to the edge of the table. Hardly able to believe that it was happening again, Grady watched as the bowl tipped into the doctor's lap. Lumpy broth seeped over his jeans.

"You idiot!" The man jumped up, but Grady, grabbing the coffee and the cake, fled.

************

"My, you've been a long time," Jessica observed when she saw her nephew. "Long queue?"

"Um, no," Grady said, not wishing to tell his aunt of his clumsiness. "Just had trouble finding my way around."

Jessica had just finished her coffee and cake when a nurse came over and said she was ready to see her. As Jessica had suspected, she had only sprained her ankle. The nurse told her that she would be able to get around well enough, although it would likely be painful for a few days, and advised her to rest her ankle for a day or two.

"Well, the party isn't for a couple of nights," Grady reminded her. "So if you just stay in the hotel until that night, your ankle should be healed enough."

Jessica nodded. "You're right. Although it's disappointing that I won't be able to look around while we stay here. I've heard there's a lovely beach in this area."

"You two are going to a party?" the nurse asked.

Grady nodded. "Vincent Heimer's."

"Vincent Heimer? Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"You are so lucky," the nurse enthused. "I've read his book. I couldn't put it down. He's tipped to become the next big-selling mystery writer."

Jessica pursed her lips but said nothing. Not noticing, the nurse asked if the two were friends of Vincent Heimer.

Grady cleared his throat. "Well, not friends exactly…" He had never before met the man.

"We're acquaintances. Very modest acquaintances, actually," Jessica admitted. "I am anxious to see him, however. I have a matter to discuss with Mr Heimer."

"Well, I hope you have a great night," bubbled the nurse.

"Yeah," Grady muttered, "but I somehow have my doubts."

************

Jack had had a long day and his encounter with the cafeteria klutz had only served to worsen what had already been a bad mood. He usually thought to bring some spare clothes along with him - working in a hospital, one did sometimes get messy - but today, of all days, he had forgotten. So when he entered the office of Mark Sloan and saw Mark and Amanda Bentley there, he scowled at them both.

"Someone get up on the wrong side of bed this morning?" Amanda asked.

"No, someone had a horrible experience in the hospital cafeteria."

"Was the food that bad?" Mark asked.

"It wasn't the food. Although food was involved."

"Is that soup on your pants?" Amanda asked him.

"Yes." Jack sat down. "There was some guy in there, a walking disaster, he fell on top of me, spilled coffee all down my coat…"

"Is that cake in your hair?" Mark pointed.

"…spilled cake in my hair. Then, as if that wasn't enough, he spills a bowl of soup all down my pants." He glared at Amanda, who was giggling. "It's not funny."

"Trying day?" Mark was sympathetic.

"Yeah, and this just rounded it off perfectly."

Mark sighed. "Would this be a bad time to tell you that your date cancelled?"

"What?"

"Sorry," Mark said. "She called the hospital earlier and left a message for you. Something's come up and she has to go to Chicago for a week."

"Perfect!" Jack couldn't believe the kind of day he was having. "So now I have to show up at this Heimer guy's party alone."

Amanda sat up straight. "Heimer? As in Vincent Heimer?"

"Yep," Jack said moodily. Amanda opened her mouth but he held up his hand. "Stop. Every time I mention this party, I hear someone gush about how wonderful his Heimer hotshot is and how much they love his book. I'm not in the mood."

"Well, Jack, the man is a celebrity now," Amanda reminded him. Something occurred to her. "Wait! You have an extra ticket. That means I could come along!"

"I'm afraid not," Mark said. "You and I are both down to work that night."

Amanda rolled her eyes. "It's times like these that I envy the unemployed."

"Well, I don't want to go alone," Jack grumbled. He shook his head. "Forget it. I just won't go at all."

"Won't go where?" The question came from Norman Briggs, who had just entered.

"There's such a thing as knocking, Norman," griped Jack.

Norman eyed him coldly. "Yes, Dr Stewart there is. Something which you yourself seem to forget every time you enter my office."

"Don't mind Jack, Norman," Mark said. "He's had a difficult day and he's a little grouchy."

"And the girl he was going to take to Vincent Heimer's party cancelled on him," Amanda added.

Norman regarded Jack with astonishment. "However did you get invited to Vincent Heimer's party?"

"My date is loosely connected with someone who knows him. I forget. It doesn't matter anyway, because I'm not going."

"Oh yes you are," Norman told him, beaming. "You're coming with me."

"What? Norman, no."

"Yes. Yes, Jack. You can be my date." Off the looks that everyone gave him, he corrected his sentence. "Well, not my _date_, date. But you can be my partner." They were still eyeing him questionably. "Not my _partner_, partner. My companion. My friend."

Jack groaned inwardly. Spending an evening at a party with Norman was not something he relished.

"Norman, I really don't think…"

"Please, Dr Stewart, I really want to make a good impression at this party," Norman said. "And I will stand a better chance of doing so if I show up accompanied by a friend. If I show up alone people will think I have no friends. They will think I am inadequate company. They won't want to talk to me. But if you come with me, Jack…who knows, I may even get to speak with Vincent Heimer himself! I could get his autograph. My mother would be so proud."

Mark and Amanda were both grinning. They knew that Jack would rather do a lot of things than go to a party with Norman, but they also knew that he was inherently good-natured and, even in his bad mood, wouldn't have the heart to let Norman down.

"Okay, okay." Jack put up his hands in defeat. "We'll go together."

"Wonderful." Quite having forgotten what he had come in there to talk about, Norman bustled out, smiling widely. "You and me, Jack. Partners in crime," he said, not realising then how ironic his statement would turn out to be.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Jessica had taken the nurse's advice and spent the last two days resting in her hotel room. Although she would have liked to have gone out more, she had to admit to having enjoyed the relaxing atmosphere of the hotel and her own room. She had treated herself to a long bath on both nights and the hotel food was delicious. She had spent the days reading, working on some notes for a new novel and watching re-runs of _I Love Lucy_ and _The Andy Griffith Show_ as well as newer comedies like _Roseanne_ and _Cheers_. She had insisted that Grady go out and enjoy himself, which he had done, but he had also frequently come in to sit and talk with her.

Now it was five p.m. on the day of the party, which was due to start at seven-thirty. Dark clouds were building up outside, suggesting that rain was not far off. Jessica and Grady were sitting on the sofa in Jessica's hotel room, watching the "Vitameatavegamin" episode of _I Love Lucy_. Despite the comfortable setting and the cheeriness of the show they were watching, Grady felt himself getting uncomfortable - and this time it had nothing to do with hospitals.

"Aunt Jess," he said tentatively, "what exactly are you planning to say to Vincent Heimer?"

"I've gone over it many times in my head," his aunt replied. "I don't intend to be overly confrontational. I simply want to ask that he acknowledge me in the book's credits."

"You've really been angry about this, haven't you?"

Jessica sighed. "I don't usually get so worked up, but…the man completely plagiarised my novel, Grady."

"But I don't understand how…"

"Well as I said to the nurse, Mr Heimer and I are very modest acquaintances. We've met two or three times but that's it. He'd been a struggling writer for years and he said he was eager to get some advice from me. The last time we met he asked if he could look over some of my notes, to get an idea of how I structured my ideas, he said. Well, it seemed a harmless enough request, and so I lent them to him for an evening. He returned them to me the next day. That was almost two years ago. His mystery novel was published last month - it's a bestseller. Or _my_ bestseller, I should say. It's my story, Grady. My plot. My characters. He stole it from me. I just feel so angry at the injustice. And not only to me - he's deceived his readers too."

"So what do you hope to gain from meeting with Heimer?"

Jessica shrugged. "I don't really know. Perhaps if I could just have an explanation from him, it might help me to understand why he did what he did. If he can't bring himself to admit that he stole my story, then I at least want some sort of acknowledgement - even if it's as little as him saying he was inspired by something I wrote."

"What if he refuses?"

"Then I intend to expose him myself," Jessica said firmly. "Or try, anyway. But let's not think about that right now." She looked at her watch. "How about we get something to eat, then we can wash and get changed for the party."

************

Jack and Norman went to the party in Norman's car. Norman had insisted that they arrive fashionably late, but due to heavy traffic, they ended up later than Norman intended, finally pulling up outside Heimer's house at five past eight. Norman was nervous, fussy and on edge while Jack was dreaming of a million better things that he could be doing. Showing their invitation tickets to a security guard, they stepped through the doorway into the house.

"Jack, you look slovenly. Straighten your tie," Norman hissed.

Jack spoke through gritted teeth. "Norman, if you want me to hang around with you tonight, get off my back."

"A good first impression is of the utmost importance," Norman countered. "If we walk into that living room looking anything less than impeccable, I guarantee that no one will want anything to do with us."

"Norman, relax. You're making too big a deal out of this." Despite his own irritation, Jack could feel some sympathy for his boss. "If you worry too much about what people will think of you, you'll just end up making yourself look like an idiot."

"Thank you very much," Norman snapped. "That's just what I needed to hear."

"No, no, I'm trying to help you out," Jack told him. "Act natural. Stay calm. If you look like you're trying too hard to impress people, they won't be interested."

"Maybe you're right," Norman admitted. He took a few steadying breaths and led the way into Heimer's large living room in which were gathered about twenty people. Jack had heard that one hundred and fifty people had been invited and even if they hadn't all turned up, he figured that there were probably at least one hundred guests in the house.

"Mr Heimer certainly has a lot of friends," Norman observed.

"He probably knows less than half of them," Jack said cynically. Although Vincent Heimer was only a minor celebrity, he had still achieved a level of fame and Jack knew that as such, people that had no connection at all to the author would have somehow managed to come along. He was hoping that was the case, as Jack knew little about the literary world and wasn't at all sure that he could hold down a conversation with anyone from that arena. His eyes scanned the room, searching for anyone remotely interesting - many of the guests appeared to be middle-aged, although here and there were…Jack's eyes rested on one of the younger women, a pretty blonde that he guessed was in her early thirties. The woman she had been talking to was heading into another room and, seeing Jack watching her, the blonde smiled. Jack smiled back and was preparing to walk over when a bespectacled youngster with untidy hair approached her and held out his hand. Jack was overcome with a desire to forcibly remove the youth from the house.

"What are we just standing here for?" Norman whispered to him. "Shouldn't we be doing something to fit in?"

Jack sighed. "I guess so." He pointed to a long table bearing food at the end of the room. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."

"Oh my God." Norman clutched Jack's arm. "Oh my God, Jack. Look who just walked in the room."

Jack looked. "Oh my God," he echoed, but for an entirely different reason. An older lady was standing in the doorway with a younger man - who Jack recognised as the guy from the cafeteria a couple of days before. Memories of his humiliation clouded his mind.

"Jack!" Norman pulled on his arm. "Jack, don't you know who that woman is?"

"No, should I?"

"That's Jessica Fletcher!" When Jack's face failed to show any comprehension, Norman added, "The mystery writer!"

"Never heard of her."

"Jack, she's famous! I can't believe you don't know who she is." Norman looked almost offended at the doctor's lack of knowledge. He said sternly, "Especially due to your interest in murder mysteries. I would have expected you to know…"

"Yeah, solving them, Norman. Not reading them."

"Well, this is your opportunity to get to know her," Norman told him. "Come on."

"What? No, Norman, I'm not going over there."

"Jack, that woman is…"

"I don't care." Jack was firm. "I am not going anywhere near her, not while she's with that guy. He was in the cafeteria two days ago and made me the laughing stock of the hospital."

"Fine," Norman said stiffly. "Stand in a corner by yourself and make no attempt to socialise, if that's your choice. I don't know why you even bothered to come." He bustled over to Jessica Fletcher before Jack could remind Norman that it had been he who had as good as dragged him along.

Grady too had noticed Jack and was relieved that the doctor did not follow his friend. He wanted to properly apologise to the man without causing any accidents but decided that it would be best to wait to do so - if he left it for an hour or two, Dr Stewart might be in a more relaxed mood and more amenable to Grady's efforts to make amends. Realising that their visitor was talking to him, he forced himself to focus.

"…the administrator of Community General Hospital," Norman finished.

"Community General? My nephew and I were there ourselves a couple of days ago," Jessica told him. "Mr Briggs, this is my nephew Grady."

"Pleased to meet you. Feel free to call me Norman," the administrator said, delighted to be in the company of a famous writer. "Did you say you were at the hospital? Not for anything serious, I hope?"

"No, just a small sprain." Jessica laughed it off. Then, seeing a chance to locate Heimer, she asked, "So do you know Mr Heimer personally?"

"Actually, no," Norman admitted. "A literary magazine was running a competition and some of the prizes were invitations to this party. My mother won two, but she's come down with something, so she was unable to make it."

"I see." Jessica nodded. "It's quite important that I speak with Mr Heimer privately. I'm hoping to find someone who knows him and see if they will pass on a message that I would like to see him."

"Oh, well let me see if I can be of some assistance." Norman was eager to impress this lady. He signalled to Jack. "Dr Stewart! Come over here, please."

Across the room, Jack shook his head. Norman glared and continued to beckon him over. Grimacing, Jack headed over. Grady blushed. Jack, who was in no mood to talk to Grady, didn't even glance at him.

"This is Jack Stewart, one of Community General's doctors," Norman informed the others. "Jack, this is Jessica Fletcher and her nephew Grady."

"It's a pleasure," Jack said shortly. Jessica noticed this time that he was deliberately ignoring her nephew. She thought about commenting on it, but decided the Vincent Heimer matter was more important.

"Jack, I want you to find out where Vincent Heimer is," Norman said, "and tell him, if you would, that Mrs Fletcher would like to see him."

"I didn't come to this party so I could be your errand boy, Norman," retorted Jack, affronted.

"Dr Stewart!"

Jessica held her hands up. "It's really not necessary, I'm sure Grady and I can find him ourselves."

"Why do you need to speak to him so bad?" Jack asked.

Jessica smiled. "I hope you'll forgive me, Dr, but it's a personal matter, so I'd rather not discuss it."

"Oh really?" Jack said under his breath. His curiosity was piqued. Why was this lady so keen to see Vincent Heimer? She clearly wasn't some star-struck fan, longing to meet her latest idol. Norman had said she was a mystery writer too, so perhaps she wanted to engage in some kind of literary discussion, or whatever it was that authors talked about with each other. But if that was the case, why not just say so? He smiled politely, but his eyes narrowed. What sort of personal business could Jessica Fletcher have with Vincent Heimer? Could there be something suspicious behind it? Jack briefly wondered if he was making a mystery out of nothing, possibly as the result of hanging out with Mark Sloan too much, but he resolved to find out just _why_ Mrs Fletcher was so desperate to see Vincent Heimer.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

An hour later, Jack was finally talking to the blonde. Her name was Shannon Kelly, she was thirty-two, and she had been living in LA for fifteen months. She was slim and athletic, with a flair for gymnastics. Vincent Heimer was sitting back on one of the plush leather sofas, surrounded by a group of women who were no doubt extolling the virtues of his novel. The Fletcher woman and her nephew had moved to another part of the house. Although Shannon was pretty and engaging, Jack kept sneaking glances to the doorway, hoping to catch sight of when Jessica Fletcher reappeared. He was still determined to find out the nature of her business with the author.

At that moment, however, only the youth with the glasses was making his way towards Heimer. Jack wouldn't have given him a second glance had Vincent Heimer's mocking voice not rung out: "Well if it isn't Shakespeare himself. Little out of place at a party, aren't you, Benjamin?"

The youth flushed. "Mr Heimer…" he began.

"A little past your bedtime as well," the author continued. The women standing around him were giggling. "Does your Mommy know you're here?"

"Yes, sir, she does."

"What brings you here, Lloyd?"

Benjamin shuffled his feet. "I thought maybe I could show you some poetry I've written…"

"No thank you, Benjamin," yawned Heimer. "Being sentenced to a lifetime in Hell would be preferable to reading over anything you write."

The young man's hands trembled. "Mr Heimer, my writing is good and I'm sure you can see that for yourself. You're just too petty to admit that to me or to anyone else."

Heimer's eyes widened and he spoke in mock surprise. "Why, Benjamin," he said, "is that a touch of frustration in your voice? I'm impressed. No one would want to run into you on a dark night." He stood up and shoved the boy in the chest. Benjamin stumbled backwards and teetered on his heels for a second before falling to the floor. The three women broke out into renewed laughter as the humiliated youngster picked himself up, blushing. Without a word, he strode out of the room.

"Wow," Shannon said.

"Ditto," Jack agreed. "This Vincent Heimer sure is a jerk."

They were about to resume their conversation when a man walked quickly to where the author was again sitting. "I see you get your kicks from picking on kids," he said, loathing in his voice. "That doesn't surprise me one bit. What's the matter, Heimer? Too afraid to mess with someone that might stand a chance of beating you?"

Heimer's face broke into a big, false smile. "Gerald. Glad you could make it."

"I'm sure," the other man snarled. "Listen, if I don't get what I came for…"

"Oh, you'll get something all right," Heimer said, still smiling. "By the way, how's the love life going?"

With a roar, the man reached down, grabbed hold of Heimer's collar and dragged him to his feet. A second later, he had pinned him against the wall.

"Let go of me!" Heimer protested. "Somebody get this madman off me."

Despite having made up his mind that Heimer was an intensely dislikeable person, Jack hurried across and seized the man's shoulders.

"Stay out of this," he snapped, trying to wrestle free of Jack's grip.

"Why don't you calm down, buddy?" Jack said evenly.

The man opened his mouth then seemed to think better of it. He stepped away and Jack, satisfied, let go of him. Wagging his finger at Heimer, the man said, "I'll see you later" and, without a backwards glance, left the room.

By now, everyone in the room was staring at Heimer. He shrugged, smiled and spread his hands. "What can I say? I'm just popular." He chuckled. "Excuse me, ladies and gentleman. I think I'll move on to the library."

"This party has been more interesting than I expected," Jack commented. Then, suggestively, "In more ways than one."

If Shannon picked up on his interest, she didn't show it. She was charming and friendly, however, and seemed to enjoy Jack's company. Maybe he would just have to work a little harder on her. His original date to the party was, for now, quite forgotten.

************

When moving onto a different crowd of guests, Vincent Heimer liked to announce his presence, so Jessica and Grady were immediately aware that he had entered the library. Jessica lost no time. She instantly crossed the room and, standing before the gentleman, said pointedly, "Mr Heimer. I'd like a word in private, if it's all right with you."

Heimer looked momentarily unsettled at her presence, then covered it with a wide smile. "But of course!" he cried. "Mrs Fletcher, my goodness. How lovely to see you again. How long has it been?"

"Too long," Jessica said briskly. "Is there a place where we can talk?"

Heimer took her to his study. Once he had firmly closed the door behind him, he faced her, all traces of his smile gone. "Well. Mrs Fletcher. I don't remember sending you an invitation."

"There are at least twenty-five guests, and probably more, who weren't invited either," Jessica informed him. "That, however, is not the point. Frankly, Mr Heimer, I'm more interested in discussing your little piece of dishonesty a couple of years ago."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mr Heimer, you and I both know that your novel is plagiarised from my own notes."

"What an interesting theory, Mrs Fletcher." He laughed mirthlessly. "Well, I'll humour you. Let's imagine, for a second, that you're right. What would you want from me?"

"I would like you to acknowledge that you borrowed heavily from my own notes for a novel."

"And why would I do a thing like that?"

"Because," Jessica said forcefully, surprised at her own anger, "I will make sure that your deception becomes public knowledge if you don't."

"Really." Heimer stroked his chin, pretending to think for a while. "And exactly how much evidence do you have? Your notes - perhaps - but can you prove _when_ they were written? If I were a member of the public, I would assume that you are simply a jealous old lady, paranoid about the arrival of a new mystery writer, making a feeble attempt to discredit his accomplishment."

Jessica was silent. He had a point. She still had her original notes but there was no way she could prove that she had written them beforehand. Heimer noticed her expression and smirked.

"You have no evidence that would stand up in court, Mrs Fletcher," he said, "and if you attempt to bring this to light, I assure you that I will be suing you for slander. Now I suggest we return to the party and forget that this conversation ever took place." He opened the door. Jack, who had just entered into the hallway at the far end, noticed the couple step out and stood where he was, in the corner, unseen by the people he was watching.

"Mr Heimer," Jessica said, her anger coming through in her voice, "this business is not over between us. I have no intention of just letting the matter drop." She swept down the other end of the hall. As Heimer locked his study door, Jack slipped back into the room he had come from, thinking over what he had just witnessed.

************

"No luck, Aunt Jess?"

"I'm afraid not." Jessica sighed in frustration. "He really is an odious man."

"Talking about Heimer?" Jessica and Grady were startled to find that a woman had approached them from behind. "Helga Harris. I'm Vincent's ex-wife."

"I didn't know he'd been married," Grady volunteered.

"Eleven years." Helga's tone and expression were bitter. "We have a son. Charles."

"I didn't know…"

"Didn't know he had a son?" Helga finished. "Charles is a sweet, polite boy. The opposite of his father. Oh, Vincent can be polite and charming when he wants to be - when it's to his advantage - but if he doesn't need to be then he won't be. Charles is fourteen now; we separated when he was eight. No monetary assistance from Vincent, nothing. He refuses to allow his own son to be a part of his life."

"But you and he are still…" Jessica hesitated over her choice of words. She wasn't sure that "friends" would be an appropriate word to describe their relationship.

"We still see each other," Helga said coldly, "on occasion. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll get some more wine."

Once she had gone, Jessica beckoned Grady into a corner of the library. Standing by a section of bookshelves, Jessica lowered her voice and said, "Grady, I was thinking. Mr Heimer has refused to acknowledge me in any way and I'm not sure if there's any way I can prove myself that he plagiarised me. Still, if I look around here, it's possible I could find something that I might be able to use."

Grady looked doubtful. "You're hoping to find evidence he plagiarised you here, in his house? I don't mean to rain on your parade, Aunt Jess, but if there was any evidence…"

"He probably would have disposed of it by now," Jessica finished. "I know it's a long shot. I've just come all this way and I don't want to leave without knowing I've done everything I can to execute justice."

"What do you hope to find?"

"Well…" Jessica thought. "When he borrowed my original notes, he returned them to me the very next morning. It's very unlikely he would have remembered everything I'd written - there were pages and pages of them - so I would imagine that he made copies."

"And they might still be here!"

"Well, we can always look," Jessica said. "Now, the most obvious place would be his study. I was just in there with him. He keeps it locked. Hmm. I suppose it's too much to hope that he would have forgotten to lock it? I'll go and try it."

"Aunt Jess…wait…with all these people here…" gabbled Grady. Jessica left the library and, with the beginnings of nervous resignation stirring in his stomach, Grady followed her.

Jessica jiggled the study door handle. "Locked," she sighed. "I wonder if there's any chance that we could come back and…"

"So what's your urgent need to get into the study?"

Jack Stewart stepped out from the shadows of the corner down the hallway and walked towards them. His expression was steady and firm. He had been making his way to the bathroom and had noticed Jessica and Grady hurrying down the passage. Guessing that they were up to something, he had decided to wait and watch.

"So what is it?" he asked, now standing only a few steps away from them. "What's the deal with breaking into this guy's study?"

"We…I…you see…" Grady had no idea what to say. "We're not doing anything wrong."

"Doctor…Stewart, is it?" Jessica asked. "Doctor, you can quite clearly see that we have not _broken into_ Mr Heimer's study. We are not even attempting to. I was ascertaining for myself whether or not the door was in fact locked. As far as I know, it is not a crime to check whether or not a door is locked, so I would appreciate it if you would keep that accusatory note out of your voice."

Jack surveyed her. She rattled him. Unlike her nephew, who was clearly intimidated, this woman did not seem at all bothered by him. This was a lady who would not back down easily. She was staring him square in the eye and Jack decided that he disliked her thoroughly.

"So what's it to you whether the door is locked?" Jack demanded.

Before either Jessica or Grady could reply, there was a commotion from the living room. Someone was shrieking, "Murderer! Murderer!" as Vincent Heimer's voice started rising. Other voices started to join in. Jack, Jessica and Grady arrived just in time to see an elderly woman take a swing at Vincent Heimer with her walking cane.

The cane hit Heimer in the stomach. He doubled over in pain and wheezed, "Somebody get the security guard."

The elderly woman stepped backwards, eyes blazing. She was shaking and, as Jessica watched, she saw tears start to form in the woman's eyes.

"Murderer," she pleaded, gazing around at the other guests in the room. "This man is a murderer. He killed my son."

"The woman is insane," Heimer spluttered. He turned to a younger woman who had taken the older lady by the arm. "Adele, get your mother off these premises right now."

Adele fixed him with an impenetrable stare. "Believe me, Heimer, if it was me, I would have done a lot more damage."

A guest arrived with the security guard, who beckoned to the women to follow him.

"Okay, we're going." Adele turned to the guard. "Can I just go to the bathroom first?"

The guard told her she could stay. "It's the other lady that has to leave."

"The other lady is my mother," Adele told him, "and since she's very upset, I'd prefer to go with her. Just wait while I use the bathroom."

The women left with the security guard. Adele's mother had by this time started crying and was gasping, "My son…he killed my son. My baby boy."

"The woman is insane," Heimer repeated. "I have never killed anybody in my life. What that old bat needs is six months in an asylum. See if the doctors can replace the missing screws." He too left the room.

As soon as he was gone, the guests were abuzz with what had just happened. Shannon made her way over to Jack. "What was _that_ all about?" she asked him. "Was that really just some senile old woman, or do you really think…?"

"That he might have killed somebody? Who knows?" Jack shrugged. "From what I've seen of him, he's a jerk. But that doesn't make him a murderer."

"But why would that woman just accuse him like that?" Shannon wondered.

They were still discussing the matter five minutes later, when the guard returned, looked stressed. Shannon raised her eyebrows. "You look like you're in need of something to drink," she observed.

"You got that right," the guard complained. "First that Gerald Canton guy and now this lady. Seems like this party is full of people who hate Heimer's guts."

"I'll get you a beer," Shannon offered. The guard nodded his thanks and she went to find him a drink. The guard started chatting to Jack, but, noticing Jessica and Grady Fletcher walking through the doorway, the doctor made his excuses and headed after them, at a distance. The incident between Heimer and the old lady had made him temporarily forget that he had come across them trying the lock on the writer's study. Seeing them leave the living room had reminded him and he was determined to see what they were up to.

Jessica and Grady headed upstairs, unaware that they were being followed. "Are you sure we should be doing this?" Grady asked. "It seems wrong. I feel like a criminal."

"It may not be the most moral thing I've done, but we're not criminals, Grady." Jessica tried to reassure him. "We probably won't find anything but I want to try anyway. I still think his study is my best bet. I do wish he hadn't locked the door."

They quickly located Vincent Heimer's bedroom and Jessica opened the door as quietly and slowly as she could. Grady winced as the door gave a rebellious creak. Stepping inside the room, Jessica switched the on the light and took a quick glance around the room.

"I wonder what would be the best place to start," she said, more to herself than to Grady.

"His underwear drawer? That's where I hear a lot of women hide things," was Grady's unhelpful suggestion.

Jessica thought for a moment. The bedroom was big and comfortable-looking, containing a large double bed, a sofa, wardrobe, chest of drawers, bedside desk and a small bookcase. There were also a few bookshelves on the wall by the side of the windows. She pointed to the bedside desk. "We may as well start by having a look in here."

"At it again, Mrs Fletcher?"

Jack stepped into the room, wearing a smile that was both irritatingly smug and accusing. He folded his arms across his chest. "First Heimer's study, now his bedroom. Either of you want to tell me why you're so keen to pry around his house?"

"Frankly, doctor, no," Jessica told him. "And I doubt it's a coincidence that you're here yourself. Following us, I presume?"

"Let's just say when someone's up to no good, I like to find out what it is."

"We're not up to no good," Grady spluttered. "We came here for a reason…"

"Oh yeah? And what reason would that be?"

"Grady," Jessica said quickly, "let's just keep this between ourselves. I'm sorry, Doctor Stewart, but as I told you, the reason for my _prying_, as you put it, is something that I would, for now, prefer to keep to myself." She addressed her nephew. "We may as well leave, Grady. I don't think we're going to be very successful tonight."

As she walked towards the stairs, Jack took her by the arm. "Just to give you fair warning," he told her, "me and my friends have a knack for finding out what kind of shady stuff is going on, and you can be sure that I'll be keeping you guys in mind."

Grady had turned pale but Jessica merely smiled and said, "Well, Doctor, thank you for letting me know." Jack watched them go downstairs, his brow furrowed.

************

By now it was 10:15 and Jessica knew that if she and Grady stayed longer, Doctor Stewart would likely keep his eye on them for the rest of the night. It was clear that further attempts at searching the house would be fruitless. She and Grady gathered their coats. As they were preparing to leave, Grady noticed the hospital administrator they had met earlier. Upon seeing them, Norman quickly made his way over.

"Mrs Fletcher. Mr Fletcher." He beamed. "Leaving so soon?"

"Yes, I don't think there's anything more for me to do here tonight," Jessica said politely. "It was lovely meeting you, Mr Briggs."

"Oh, call me Norman," the administrator said. "Before you go, Mrs Fletcher, would it be possible to get your autograph? My mother and I are both fans of your novels and…"

"Of course." Jessica took the pen and paper he was proffering her and signed. "It's a shame we couldn't talk for longer, Norman."

Jessica and Grady were joined by the security guard as they left the house. "I'm beat," he told them, running his hand through his hair. "All I want to do is get right into bed. I don't think anyone else is likely to show up, so I'm clocking out."

Jessica and Grady were back at the hotel by 10:45 and after taking a quick bath, Jessica was ready to go to bed. As she took off her glasses, turned off the lamp and settled her head back on the pillow, she reflected on the evening's events. She was disappointed with how things had gone, but she still hadn't entirely given up on the idea of just going straight to the press with her allegations. On the other hand, she knew she would be taking a big risk of being sued if she did that…she yawned. Whatever she decided to do, she would be returning to her home in Cabot Cove in a few days, and she resolved to try to forget about Vincent Heimer for the time being and try to enjoy the rest of her stay.

Unfortunately, forgetting about Vincent Heimer turned out to be easier said than done, as he was discovered dead the next day.


End file.
